


Lost and Found

by orphan_account



Category: 10 Billion Husbands (Video Game)
Genre: Attempted Rape, Cuddling, Falling In Love, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Orcs, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 07:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21050918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Despite your job as a village healer, life holds little variation from one day to the next. But then an orc invasion forces you to flee and leave almost everything behind.





	Lost and Found

On the middle of the rickety table, a candle illuminates the single room of your cabin. Tonight is a night like any other, or so it seems. A bowl of stew, consisting of ingredients found throughout the forest, provide just enough nourishment to keep the hunger pangs at bay. Sips of broth and chirping crickets supply the only sounds in this quiet corner of the village.

Life hasn't been easy. Your mother died during childbirth, having lacked the services of a midwife or doctor, and your father was killed by one of the many beasts that reside in the forest. You live alone in this cabin, but the villagers assist by trading goods in exchange for your teas and tonics. Your attunement with nature enables you to differentiate between deadly plants and those with therapeutic properties. This extensive knowledge gives the power to cure a man’s ailments or put an end to him.

There has been no shortage of men and women who’ve sought your attention, but none have caught your eye. The townsfolk call you a dreamer who’s searching for the impossible: a knight in shining armor who will sweep you off your feet and take you away. You’re just wasting your youth. If you continue this lonely existence, only going out to collect ingredients, you’ll grow old alone and die alone.

Their comments have truth. This village holds nothing but the same routine each day, save for the occasional illness that proves to be stubborn or beyond your knowledge. The latter tends to be acquired from distant lands—the lands you wish to experience for yourself. Despite your understanding of the risks, that won’t stop you from seeing the world and finding that perfect place to settle down. It doesn’t need to be a grand castle. You could find happiness anywhere with the right man at your side.

Your wooden spoon hovers over the bowl as you gaze at the bed in the corner. Like the days, each night is the same. You lie there and stare at the ceiling until you’re welcomed by sleep’s embrace. The bed is far too small to accommodate another man, and even if it were big enough, who would you share it with? Who would claim your body for the first time? Your tastes don’t include the elderly, drunks with enough booze on their breath to knock you out, and those who are unfamiliar with bathing.

The last spoonful of stew seems to enter your mouth through no action of your own. You were dreaming once again, and soon it’ll be time to retire to your bed for the night. But first these dishes must be rinsed so they don’t fester, and then you’ll treat yourself to a rosewater bath. Proper hygiene has always been of great importance to you, unlike most people you’re acquainted with.

You bring the bowl to the front door and stand there, listening to the crickets’ song on the other side. It’s a ritual you follow every night before opening the door. Although the beasts generally stay in the forest, there have been reports of some that have strayed into villages in search of better meals... beasts that develop a taste for human flesh as a result of foolhardy travelers that invade their territory. You’ve never had the misfortune of encountering one, but you don’t take it for granted. Your precautions have kept you alive this long, which is why the windows are shuttered and the door is locked once night falls.

The crickets appear to be your only company. You open the door and step outside into the cool air, closing it behind you. The stars and moon are out in full force, providing enough light to find your way to the back of the cabin. Beyond lies the forest, dark and foreboding, its dense foliage allowing little light in comparison. Bathing is supposed to be a time for relaxation, but you regret not doing this earlier. You stride to the water well and lay the bowl on the grass. As you crank the lever to raise the bucket, the squeaks sound unnaturally loud. Once the bucket has finally risen, you grip the sides and pour the water into the bowl, leaving a small amount to brush your teeth later.

You leave the bucket on the edge of the well and turn to the wooden tub beside it. Prior to eating dinner, you engaged in the long process of heating water over the campfire and using it to fill the tub. It’s already lined with a linen cloth to protect your skin from splinters, so you just have to scatter the rose petals. You grab a handful of them from the basket and toss them into the water, which has cooled to a lukewarm temperature. All the more reason to finish this as quickly as possible and return to the safety of your cabin.

A twig snaps in the forest, making your fingers pause on the first button of your leather vest. But upon closer inspection, it’s only a doe, her shape vaguely visible. You unbutton your vest, shrug it off, and let it drop onto the grass behind you. There are no further sounds except for the creaks of your boots and breeches as you follow up with their removal. Perhaps it’s pointless to worry. Not once has a villager been attacked aside from your father, and even then, he was on a hunting mission far outside the boundaries.

You step into the tub and kneel in the middle, sighing at the blissful fragrance surrounding you. There's not a lot of room in here, but the water level is high enough to reach the top of your neck, providing a comforting experience despite the cooling temperature. You run your hands through your hair and along every inch of skin, sparing no part of your body from getting cleansed. The scent would be divine to any man nearby. Pity there aren’t any handsome knights to be found. Solitude isn’t a stranger to you, but your sexual abstinence has resulted in curiosity and frustration to which there is only one cure.

As you leave the tub, a different sigh escapes you, full of longing for someone who’s beyond your reach. Your hand and imagination will have to suffice. After tipping the tub to empty the water, you step to a small folding table nearby. It holds a towel and a wooden box of grooming supplies. You dry yourself off and then open the box to retrieve a strip of rough linen and a tub of mint paste. Cleaning your teeth is always a careful process, the reason why you don't have a mouth of rot like many of the villagers. The leftover water in the bucket is used to rinse the excess paste, leaving your breath smelling fresh.

Outside, the remaining task is to collect your discarded clothes and the bowl. You clutch them to your chest and stride to the front door, remembering those dreadful reports of people getting eaten. If something is going to happen, it will surely occur under the cover of darkness. It’s a natural instinct for beasts to hunt at night, though not all of the forest dwellers are driven by instinct. There are tales of humanoids roaming around. Goblins, ogres, trolls, and orcs that possess greater intelligence than these simple beasts. To make matters worse, this village lacks a hero to vanquish them.

You’re no damsel in distress, but you’re not a hero either. Reality can be cruel and the truth is, your first instinct would be to hide or flee. You don’t have any delusions of grandeur, of being able to single-handedly stop an invasion while the elderly, women, and children escape. Dreamers can also be rational, and your healing skills would be useless if you were dead. A rare gift shouldn’t be wasted by charging headlong into danger, and besides, the other men in this village need to prove themselves capable of doing more than drinking and whoring. You’ve already done your part in keeping people alive, and you'll continue to do it in your own way for as long as you remain in this place.

Weariness presses down on you like the heaviest of boulders. You barely have the strength to open the door and drag yourself inside. With luck, tomorrow will be a day of rest, but you know better than to expect smooth sailing. People are constantly getting sick because of the cooling weather that breeds weakened immune systems. Deciding to put everything away in the morning, you drop your clothes and bowl beside the doorway. At least the floor is clean; a healer can’t afford a dirty cabin.

You close the door, slide the bolt across to lock it, and walk the few feet to the trunk at the end of your bed. More clothes are inside, including a flannel robe in your favorite color. A benefit of your profession is the receiving of gifts by grateful patients. Currency such as copper, silver, and gold aren’t entirely useless in this village, as some traveling merchants don’t accept traded goods, but you prefer items that are more practical. This robe is one of them, soft and warm. You put it on and tie the waist, leaving only your chest and calves exposed.

Now the candle just has to be blown out. After doing so, you take a direct course to the bed, having done this enough times to avoid bumping into anything. You climb onto it and pull the blanket over yourself. It’s made of itchy wool, long due for replacement, and you make a mental note to trade for a new one tomorrow.

Your head barely hits the pillow when a scream pierces the air, making you bolt upright. Maybe it’s just someone having a bad dream. You’ve had to administer sleep tonics in the past. But in your heart, you know the sound wasn't born from a mere nightmare. It was only a matter of time before this village was invaded. The question is, who or what is responsible? A lone attacker will be far easier to deal with than a pack of dire wolves or a tribe of orcs.

The answer comes in the form of more screams and then guttural roars that cause the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. You’re far enough from the rest of the village to be capable of making your escape before the invaders get here, but you still need to grab necessities. How would you survive with only this robe you’re wearing? What if you injure yourself while escaping and develop an infection?

You dart off the bed and jog to the table in the front corner of the room. It holds your medicinal bag, cloth strips in various sizes, a mortar and pestle, and jars of herbs, oils, and beeswax. Not everything can fit. You snatch the most important items and stuff them inside, then open the drawer and retrieve a small sack of coins. This also goes into the bag. You don’t have much, having lived in this poor village for your whole life, but there’s enough copper and silver to buy some meals. A few sets of clothes will also be needed. You squish your vest and breeches in there, along with a long-sleeved cloth tunic, pants, and knitted socks. That’s as much as the bag can hold. After fastening the two buckles and shouldering it, you rush to the door.

Only two steps are taken before the door bursts open with such force that it hits the inside wall and splinters. On the other side is an orc, his dark green skin shining in the moonlight. His impressive height causes the top of his head to graze the doorframe as he takes a step inside. A barbaric club is held in his hand, full of protruding spikes that promise agonizing pain if any flesh gets caught and torn.

Your breath emerges in short gasps as you back away to the array of tools on the counter. If tonight is to be your last, you won’t leave this world without getting a few strikes on this brute. Keeping your gaze on the orc, you reach behind and grab a knife.

“Stay back!”

He hasn’t moved from his position just inside the doorway. His scarred body is broad, blocking out most of the moonlight that would otherwise be pouring in, and he appears as a vague shape in the darkness. But from the brief glimpse earlier, you were able to make out some of his other features, including a short tusk on either side of his mouth. His clothing consists of a spiked shoulder pad and a groin covering made of leather, which leaves little to the imagination. It bulges from the size of what lies behind, and you can’t help but stare with your mouth open.

Recovering from your trance, you brandish the knife. “Take any object that interests you. I only ask that you let me leave unharmed. Don’t force my hand.”

Does he even comprehend your words? He continues to stand a few meters away, appraising the knife with his head tilted slightly to the side. It looks like a mere child’s toy in comparison to what he wields. His snort of laughter confirms that he does understand what you plan to do if he resumes his approach, but this threat is of no consequence. The scars on his body provide tales of the many wounds he’s suffered and lived through.

His grip tightens on his spiked club. Despite the incoming danger, you don't show weakness. Every muscle is tensed to react when the need arises, and that need comes quickly. He braces one of his bare feet behind him and raises the club over his shoulder, preparing to unleash a powerful throw that will embed the spikes in your skull. Through his actions, he’s saying something. He can kill you where he stands.

There’s a flaw with his logic. You won’t simply stand here and accept your fate. When the club is hurled, flying with enough strength to kill you in a single blow, you duck immediately. It gets embedded in the wall, sending splinters in all directions. The thump is joined by a frustrated growl as he stomps toward you, ready to finish the job with his bare hands.

As he enters striking distance, you lash out with your knife, stabbing him in his thigh. The attack only adds to his fury. With another growl, he reaches for your neck. You sidestep and sprint to the doorway, adrenaline fueling your legs, but your escape is cut short by a massive figure. The collision knocks you back, and the air rushes out of your lungs as you hit the floor.

It’s another orc, his taller height requiring him to stoop under the frame. Not only that, he has to enter sideways because of the broadness of his shoulders. Everything about him is big. Thick neck and biceps, meaty pectorals, chiseled abdomen, muscular legs that flex with each step, and hands that could crush a windpipe with a single squeeze.

You swallow hard as heavy footsteps approach from the counter, belonging to the first orc. Above your head, the spikes glint, and your chest heaves from rapid breaths. The club is inches from connecting when this new intruder barks out an order in a foreign language. Whatever he said, it causes the attack to halt, and the club returns to the orc’s side.

In this situation, when faced with two orcs, it’s pointless to make any further attempts at violence or escape. No, there are more than two, their feet and legs visible behind what appears to be the chieftain. His armor is elaborate, with both shoulders and knees protected, and he’s also wearing leather boots and a long loincloth made of fur. Blood drips onto the floor from his club, and chunks of flesh are stuck to the spikes.

Your stomach churns as you make a mental plea to any gods who might be listening. The chieftain takes a step forward, his feet resting on either side of your extended legs. His bloody club reaches for your groin, which remains covered by your robe. Is he going to torture you before the final blow? Smash your manhood to pieces and listen to your screams?

He parts the edges of the fabric, revealing your cock and balls. The sight makes him chuckle, drawing the other orcs inside to see what’s so funny. They step beside him and join his laughter, six in total, and your face flushes with shame. Apparently the size is causing them to mock you, even though these parts aren’t small by human standards.

The chieftain’s gaze travels down your legs, examining the soft skin that contrasts with his scars and body hair. He squats over you and inhales deeply, smelling the trace of roses. His club gets tossed aside and then he runs a calloused palm along your throat, ending with your chest. It’s impossible not to notice the way his body is reacting. His growing arousal causes his loincloth to extend outward, and panic resurfaces as you realize what he intends to do. You’re pretty enough to substitute for a woman.

You try to slide your legs out from under his body and lean up, but your attempt is stopped by hands gripping your thighs, pinning them to the floor. His eyes seem to glow red as they stare into yours, and you lie down again. Maybe you’ll get lucky and pass out before he finishes. Surely a human body cannot accommodate something so big. By now, the monstrosity has thickened to its full size, and the only blessing is that it’s still covered.

He rises and unfastens the laces on either side of the covering. It drops to the floor, and even in the dim light, you’re able to make out the horrifying sight of what he’ll force into you. The girth has to be at least equivalent to the thickest part of your forearm, and it’s easily the length of your wrist to elbow. A silver ring is pierced through the head, and you can imagine the extra pain it’ll cause as it scrapes your insides. Heavy balls hang below the massive cock. They're far bigger than any you’ve seen, promising an equally heavy load.

Despite your terror, you can merely make a croak of protest. Your mouth is too dry to do anything else, but your body has the strength to move. Again you try to lean up. This time you’re stopped by a boot on your chest, its downward force hindering your ability to breathe. You keep your hands where they are, showing submission while you gasp. There’s no room for disobedience.

You close your eyes and allow him to flip you over. He hikes your hips up until you’re on your knees, forearms resting on the floor, and your robe gets lifted so it’s bunched around your waist. The thick head of his cock prods your hole, accompanied by the cold metal of the piercing. He’s going to take you like you’re nothing more than a dog. Slam into you until your body is broken and full of his seed, and then the other orcs will have their turn with whatever is left.

Before the tears can fall from your watery eyes, a horn is blown in the distance, drawing the orcs’ attention. They stomp out of the cabin except for the chieftain, one of his hands still gripping your hip tightly. You sense the turbulent thoughts running through his mind. He just found a way to treat himself and now he has to leave? Holding your breath, you wait for the answer as the piercing rests against you.

His duty to his tribe ends up being the victor in this dilemma. What kind of chieftain would abandon his tribemates just for a quick rut? The floor creaks as he stands up, and you exhale upon hearing the rustles of the loincloth. Once his footsteps disappear into the night, you also rise, letting your robe fall over your backside. This opportunity can’t be wasted. You slip your feet into your boots, snatch your bag off the table, and force your shaky legs through the doorway.

The crickets have gone silent, replaced by distant growls and grunts. Logic tells you to escape into the forest, but without anything to guide your path in the darkness, how would you find your way around? Better yet, how would you evade the wolves and other creatures that possess keener senses? The only viable option is to skirt around the border of the village.

You crouch low and creep to the border, using the cover of the trees to hide from any stragglers. The action sounds like it’s coming from the village core. As you get closer, bodies start appearing on the trail that leads there. They don’t belong to your acquaintances, but rather the orcs. Most have been killed with a stab to the heart, blood seeping out of their wounds. None of the bodies belong to the chieftain.

Unless he’s been killed somewhere out of view, he might still be alive. It’s foolish to risk revealing yourself, but curiosity drives you to the back window of the nearest cabin. Your hand flies to your mouth at the sight. Serena, a pleasant young woman who liked to brighten your cabin with fresh flowers, lies dead on her stomach. Her nightgown is bunched around her waist, and between her splayed legs is a pool of blood and semen. That’s the extent of her injuries, so she appears to have died from the sheer brutality of the assault.

What of the other women? Or even the children? Anything is possible with these barbarians, and while you’d rather not see more results of their actions, there could be survivors holed up somewhere. But again, it’s not your responsibility to ensure their safety, especially after what almost happened to you. Should you just leave then? If this savior gets injured, he or she could use the assistance of a healer. Only an ungrateful wretch would leave them behind after their act of bravery.

Your mind is so riddled with turmoil that you fail to notice the musky smell of orc until it’s too late. The back of your head is struck with something hard, causing darkness to envelop your vision, and you fall to the ground.

* * *

When you awaken, you’re no longer lying on hardness. It’s a pile of furs, and a soft blanket has been pulled over you. Blinking groggily, you get your bearings. The scenery has changed to a small cave, illuminated by a lantern. A man is kneeling beside the bed, with reddish-gold hair that matches his warm eyes. He must be an angel who has come to take you from this world. You smile at him and then wince from the throbbing in your head.

“I’m alive.”

He returns the smile. “That you are.”

“What happened? How did I get here?”

His smile fades, becoming a frown. “I found you in the middle of the road. You’ve been unconscious for hours.”

“My village...”

You peel the blanket back and brace your hands on either side of your body, boosting yourself to a sitting position. The action draws his attention to your slightly-bent legs and inner thigh that’s now visible. He quickly looks away, focusing on your face.

“I’ve heard tales of the creatures that stalk these woods, so I carried you here.”

You stare into space, brows furrowed in concentration. The village was invaded last night. You were almost taken by the orc chieftain, but a horn distracted him. The last thing you remember is looking through the window of Serena’s cabin and seeing her corpse.

You’re still dressed in your robe, which is covered in dirt. Did you drag yourself to the road? Sudden shyness overcomes you as your hands fly to your chest, seeking to cover the exposed skin. His gaze flicks to your ring finger of all things, turning your shyness into curiosity. But then the throbbing becomes difficult to ignore. You let out a groan, hands flopping to your lap.

“I have to go back and see if anyone’s alive. Orcs invaded my home.”

It’s a struggle just to get the words out, your mouth feeling as dry as paper. He stands up and walks to a small table in the middle of the cave. The table holds your bag in addition to a waterskin that he returns with. After removing the cork, he gives you the water and you take a long sip. Normally you’d be wary about germs, but they’re the least of your concerns. The water is cool and refreshing, and although you’re parched enough to drink every drop, you leave some for him. He corks the waterskin and brings it back to the table.

As he turns to the bed, you notice his odd belt. The middle is adorned with a gleaming red jewel. His other garments are commonplace, but this? It must’ve cost him a hefty amount of money.

“A family heirloom.” He ambles toward you, hands in his pockets. “My name is Akio by the way.”

“Akio,” you repeat slowly. It sounds so exotic compared to the bland names you’ve heard and spoken. You give him yours and then raise a hand to your forehead. “I have to return. Maybe someone survived. And I have to thank...”

The room spins and you slump to the side, darkness threatening to overcome you again. You catch yourself and return upright. Now isn’t the time to sleep. There’s so much to do, starting with a thorough wash to rid yourself of the chieftain's scent. Your stomach twists into knots as more memories come rushing back. Last night, you were seconds away from being treated like a mere tool for pleasure, and you would’ve shared Serena’s grisly fate.

By now, the corpses must be starting to decompose, but that won’t stop looters from descending upon the village. Everything you’ve accumulated will be gone, no matter how insignificant the item, and you don’t have enough money to rent a room for longer than a few days. Maybe someone will take pity on you, or perhaps they’ll grant you a free residence in exchange for work.

“You should rest here. It’s not wise to be walking around in such a state.”

“At least let me wash and get changed. Is there a stream nearby?”

He nods. “There is. But I’m…” His cheeks tinge with pink. “I’m afraid I must accompany you. I didn’t bring you to safety only to let you pass out again and drown.”

“Oh.”

You can’t deny his reasoning, nor can you deny what this might entail. Is he to watch your every move while you bathe? You’ve only known him for minutes, and that’s hardly enough time to get a sense how trustworthy someone is. On the other hand, he had ample time to do something lecherous while you were unconscious.

“I promise to be on my best behavior.” He drops to a knee and presses a palm against his chest. “You have my word.”

His amused smile makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. He offers you his hand and you accept it, rising together. Its softness tells you that he’s not used to a life of labor, but he isn’t a man who engages in leisure all day. His biceps are defined under the sleeves of his leather jacket, and his muscular legs suggest he does a lot of walking. They’re accentuated by his tight pants, which also frame a part of him that you can’t believe you’re looking at. You just met him and you’re already examining his groin.

Slipping your hand out of his grasp, you move it to your robe and try to sweep the dirt off. Your attempt only succeeds in smearing brown over the flannel, and you sigh. It’s a shame to have dirtied his blanket and furs. You open your mouth to apologize, then promptly close it upon sighting a polearm propped against the wall. The handle is made of black metal, and the end has a glinting silver blade that looks to be a foot in length. Suitable for stabbing hearts.

He follows your gaze and waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, that? I’ve been trying to get rid of it for a while. Some of the villages have need of weapons to guard against attacks.”

“Are you a merchant?”

“Indeed I am. I travel all over the world in search of rare items to buy and sell.”

“I see.”

Akio is certainly in good shape, appearing to be capable of defending himself, but it would've taken more than one man to kill all of those orcs. Plus his clothing wouldn’t offer much protection, and from what you can see, there isn’t any armor in this cave. A broom and a hanging bag are the only other items near the polearm.

In your moment of distraction, he scoops you into his arms. Your mouth flies open, but you don’t protest against his boldness as he carries you toward the cave’s exit. It’s covered by thick foliage that allows a sprinkling of light to penetrate the interior. His hands are occupied, so you use your own to lift a branch enough for him to squeeze through. Where there is foliage, there are spiders, and you gasp as a black one skitters close to your hand.

Surprise turns into admiration of the beautiful horse tethered to a tree just outside the cave. Her black coat is shiny, indicating that she is well-cared for, though one of her amber eyes is cloudy. She turns her head to appraise you and lets out a soft snort in greeting. You give her a few strokes on her neck before Akio continues onward, walking with the confidence of someone who has traversed this forest many times.

His eyes are watchful, darting around constantly in search of potential dangers. During the day, the forest can be deceivingly peaceful with its cheerful birdsong and foraging squirrels, but that peace can shatter in an instant. Every creature has to eat and not all of them limit their hunting to the night hours.

You’re glad to have Akio accompanying you. This area is unfamiliar, even though some of your ingredients have required you to stray farther than normal. How could you have possibly dragged yourself here without remembering? Perhaps he wasn’t telling the truth, but a bad person wouldn’t have kept you safe for hours. Unless he had an ulterior motive.

“Did you really find me in the middle of the road?”

His expression hardens, brows lowering and eyes narrowing as he stares ahead. The sound of flowing water diverts your attention from his face to the stream that has been reached. When you look up again, it’s as if nothing has changed. He carefully lowers you to the grass and then turns away, able to see you through his peripheral vision while keeping an eye on the forest.

The morning air is crisp, raising goosebumps on your bare calves. You don’t anticipate a long bathing session, especially with him as an audience. He’s going to be the first man to see you naked, and that realization brings a surge of anxiety. You dreamed of something more romantic than stripping in the chilly woods next to a man you barely know.

Beggars can’t be choosers. You untie your robe, slide it off, and toss it onto the grass. It’ll also need to get washed. Your spare clothes are in your bag, which you didn’t take with you, so you’ll have to don your robe again. Akio won’t be given the pleasure of carrying you back while you're naked, not that he even cares to do such a thing. He’s standing as stiff as a board. These odd circumstances must be similarly awkward for him.

You slip your boots off and step into the cool stream, feet resting on the smooth rocks that litter the bottom. The clear water comes up to your knees. If the effects of the head trauma make a sudden reappearance, there’s enough water to drown, but you don’t fear this event. The prior dizziness episode didn’t last long, and your body is already feeling rejuvenated from resting on the comfort of the furs. You squat and run your hands over your face, chest, and legs, cleaning every trace of dirt. Your backside is also given attention, having been tainted by that disgusting chieftain. He’s likely responsible for the attack that wasn't made with the intent to kill. What did he plan to do afterward? Bring you to his camp as a prisoner of war? You shudder at the thought.

Once clean, you step out and kneel on the grass to begin scrubbing your robe. Occasionally you glance at Akio to see if he’s watching, but his focus is on being a stoic guardian. He’s nothing like the tavern men who used to leer and make lewd comments, and his mysteriousness only adds to his charm. You wouldn't have any complaints if your first sexual experience was with him. He’s not an uncivilized orc. On the contrary, he has an aura of purity surrounding him. Sex might be unfamiliar to him as well.

You scrub harder, seeking to distract yourself from these perversions. The water temperature prevents your body from responding to them, but your mind is left to wander. Something tells you that he’d be gentle and treat you with reverence. He’d listen to your every word, whether you wanted him to go slow or fast, but he could still take initiative. There’s a streak of boldness in him that surfaced when he scooped you up.

He taps your shoulder and you flinch, drawn out of your daydreaming. You hope to see any sign of interest on his face, but his gaze hasn’t left the forest.

“We should be getting back soon. You must be hungry.”

“I am.”

Hiding your disappointment, you wring the water out of your robe and then rise to put it on. After tying it, you slip your feet into your boots. He gestures for you to follow him, his expression neutral. There isn’t even a hint of a blush on his face. Maybe he isn’t interested in the company of men. Maybe he isn’t interested in _you_. Is your body not to his liking? And why is the thought so worrisome? You’ll find someone eventually.

As you walk behind him, you suppress the sigh that wants to escape. Men like him aren’t encountered often. He’ll resume his travels and you’ll be left where you started. No, you’ll be even more worse off. Alone with no home. But you remind yourself of the fact that there will always be people in impoverished circumstances. People who only have the clothes on their backs and not even a single copper coin to their name. At least you have your mind and a decent stock of materials to begin another job as a healer. And if you come across a village that already has one, you’ll simply go to the next. Negativity, in contrast, will get you nowhere.

When you arrive at the cave, he does the lifting of the branch. Keeping an eye out for spiders, you duck inside and walk to your bag on the table. You remove the cloth tunic, pants, and knitted socks while he digs through his own bag that hangs near the polearm. His back is facing you, so there isn’t a need for any pathetic attempts at allurement when shedding your clothes for a second time. You do, however, take your time as you get dressed in these fresh clothes. Perhaps he’ll steal a glance over his shoulder and catch you in the process of bending over. But alas, it’s too much to ask for. He’s giving you privacy on purpose by pretending to be focused on his search. A true gentleman.

Fully clothed, you sit on the lone chair that creaks in protest. The sound tells him to turn around, a cloth bundle held in his hand. He brings it to the table and opens it, revealing a chunk of crusty bread and a small portion of cheddar cheese.

“I apologize for the poor selection.”

Meager lifestyles don’t teach people to be fussy. You accept the food with a grateful smile and eat without complaint. At least there isn’t any mold. When you’re finished, he grabs the cloth and returns to the bag to put it inside. He stares at the polearm for several seconds and then turns to you, giving a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I suppose I’ll continue my quest in search of a new owner for the polearm. In the meantime, I don’t advise a return to your village. Stay here and once you’ve recovered enough to travel, I’ll bring you to another.” His gaze flicks to the jars of herbs that are sticking out of your bag. “There are many villages in need of a healer.”

It’s not the news you want to hear. Having no idea where you are, you’ll be stuck here until he returns. Then you’ll be dumped in a random village, unlikely to ever see him again. You release a heavy sigh, unable to suppress it this time.

“And I suppose it’s for the best.”

His handsome face is no longer smiling, brows drawn together. “I don’t presume to know what is best for you, but I do know something. You deserve peace after what happened. I… a life on the road can’t offer this.”

Without another word, he grabs the polearm and strides to the exit. He disappears outside, his form barely visible through the foliage.

“What if I don’t want peace?” you ask quietly. “What if I just want you?”

There’s no indication that he heard you. Within seconds, he’s galloping away on his horse, leaving you conflicted. You’re not so naive that you believe in love at first sight, but you do feel something for him. These are troubled times where people take what strikes their fancy. Any other man could’ve found you in the middle of the road, dragged you into the bushes, and taken advantage of your vulnerable state. You could’ve awakened with your few possessions gone, but instead you were carried here and permitted to rest in comfort.

You heave yourself off the chair and circle around the table to grab the broom. During your venture outside, the sun’s high position indicated that it’s the afternoon. It could be hours before Akio returns, so you must find tasks to do before boredom makes you go insane. A life of peace? That’s not what you want. A life of adventure would serve you much better. You were cooped in that tiny village for the years leading up to this point. You saw the same faces and did the same things over and over, with little variety in between. And now there’s a man who can break the tedium, but you don’t know if he feels the same way. You’re probably just one of many people he’s helped.

If nothing else, you can help him by cleaning this humble abode. You sweep the dirt off the furs and the debris off the floor, squishing a few spiders in the process. It’s pointless to bring them outside when they’ll only crawl back in, and you’ve seen the nasty consequences of bites. Infected holes that ooze pus, requiring frequent drainage and packing with herbs. The smell is awful and not something you wish to experience again. In some cases, the patients have come close to needing amputation, and you’d rather enjoy the use of your limbs for as long as possible. Thus you don’t feel any remorse for the spiders that have infiltrated this cave. Outside, they’re free to do as they please if they leave you alone. But in here, there’s no mercy to be found.

You shove the bodies through the gap at the bottom of the exit. It’s already looking better in here. The lantern’s candle continues to burn, sending flickers across the stone floor. The light is warm, but it can’t fill the void from Akio’s absence, and you almost regret meeting him. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have to think about the inevitable parting with him. It was stupid to let his charm capture you, but hearts can have minds of their own.

With enough hope or the right words, perhaps this parting doesn’t have to occur, but you won’t beg to accompany him on his travels. You’ve never begged for anything, not even when the first orc invaded your home. As he rides off, you’ll stand tall, ready to face what life has in store for you. And if you don’t like that destination, you’ll change it. You don’t need a man at your side in order to see the world. Anyone can learn to wield a blade and defend themselves.

The illusion of an adventurous life is quickly shattered as you look down. You’re only wielding a broom. You prop it against the wall and then scan the cave for something else that will help you bide your time. There’s nothing but a pile of furs that offer the invitation of sleep, which holds no appeal when you’re not tired. You could boil water, let it cool, and refill the waterskin though. Within a short distance, there’s a campsite you spotted on the way to the stream.

You set off, retracing the path you took with him. It’s a simple affair to find the ring of stones where a fire once burned. There are plenty of logs and twigs nearby, along with a pot, tinder box, and shovel. You grab the pot’s handle and continue striding to the stream, keeping a close watch on your surroundings. The sky has become a haze of grey, promising eventual rain, and the forest lacks the peacefulness it once held. You don’t turn back despite the easier solution of collecting rainwater. This gives you something to do instead of being stuck inside the cave.

At the stream, you fill the pot just below the rim. The trip back is slow, each step causing the pot to swing from its handle. You hang it from the horizontal stick above the circle of rocks and then work on collecting dry grass to create a small nest. Your father taught you important wilderness skills and starting a fire is one of them. You lay the nest in the middle of the circle, open the tinder box, and remove the three necessities: flint, steel, and char cloth. The cloth goes on top of the flint, and with a single strike of the steel, it ignites. The next step is putting the cloth into the nest and folding the grass over. Smoke billows as you blow gently, coaxing a flame that springs to life. You put the nest back into the circle, which contains pine needles that help the fire grow. Twigs are added gradually so they don’t smother it.

As the flames lick the bottom of the pot, you stand up and step back to avoid breathing the smoke into your lungs. It mingles with the forest's earthy scent—a scent that normally has a calming effect. But the overcast sky creates a gloomy atmosphere, and you begin to miss the warm glow of the cave. You miss looking into Akio’s eyes and seeing the warmth there. It’s not something that can be faked. He was genuinely relieved when you awakened from unconsciousness. If luck is on your side, you’ll return to the cave and find him waiting with a sack of coins from the sale of his polearm. He’ll speak of his adventures and let you stay for the night, and when tomorrow comes, you’ll see what happens.

The water boils with an intensity that matches your continued turmoil, but you’re not so awash with loneliness that you’ll let yourself get burned. You grip the handle, slide it off the stick carefully, and lower the pot to the ground. The shovel will serve your needs perfectly for putting out the fire. You scoop dirt onto the flames until they’re extinguished, then toss it aside. It’s time to head back.

With the pot in hand, you walk just as carefully. A startling sight awaits you at the cave, almost making you drop it. The horse is here, stamping her hoof in agitation, and a trail of blood leads inside. The branches have been scattered, no longer covering the entrance. You peek around the corner and gasp at the figure lying face down on the bed. Black armor shines in the candlelight.

“Akio?”

He doesn’t respond, but it’s undoubtedly him. His polearm lies on the floor beside him, its blade covered in blood. You step over the branches and take a few long strides to reach him.

As you lower the pot and kneel beside him, questions enter your mind, one after another. Who did this to him? Was anything vital punctured? Why did he lie? But there are more important issues at hand. The scent of iron grows thick in the air, and redness blooms outward from a wound on the back of his thigh. He was stabbed through the mesh, but the weapon missed an artery. The blood is seeping, not spurting, and his soft groans aren’t coming from a man in agony.

You retrieve your bag from the table and return to him, setting it down on your other side. In cases like these, time is still of the essence, and you’re glad to have pre-treated some of the cloth strips with diluted tea tree oil. It will act as an antibiotic, lessening the chance of him getting an infection. But first the bleeding has to be stopped. You apply pressure with a larger cloth, stopping once the crimson has ceased its spread.

Cleaning the wound will be easier if the mesh is out of the way. You toss the cloth aside and run your hands along his belt, searching for the release mechanism. It pulses with energy, its heat unbearable to the touch, and you jerk them back. Mustering his strength, he does it for you by reaching under his body. As the armor melts away, revealing the leather clothing he wore previously, you can scarcely believe your eyes. Magic is the sole explanation.

The sight only adds to the questions that linger, but now isn’t the time for an interrogation. He unzips his pants and pulls them down, past the generous curve of his ass. You help him by pulling them further as he raises his hips. He’s not wearing any undergarments, and it’s tempting to reach out and feel the toned muscles. Resisting this temptation, you dip another cloth into the water and wring it out over the wound, letting the excess flush away any debris. The temperature cooled slightly during the trip from the campfire, but it still causes him to flinch. His only choice is to bear the discomfort. The stream is too far away, and even if that weren’t the case, you don’t trust that water to be untainted by bacteria.

The process is repeated several times until you’re certain that nothing remains in the wound. You toss this cloth beside the other and then grab a treated strip from your bag. As you wrap it around his thigh, he lets out a soft hiss from the tea tree oil. He’ll be thankful when he doesn’t lose his leg from an infection. You tie the ends into a knot and watch for more blood seepage, but the cloth is thick enough to prevent redness from coming through.

“Everything will be fine. You’re in… good shape.”

He chuckles as if sensing your gaze on his ass. It’s unfortunate that you haven’t been able to see what’s in the front, but you still have hope that something more will arise from your meeting with him. You grip the waistband of his pants and reluctantly pull them up. To your dismay, he zips them before easing himself onto his back. A warm smile lights up his features.

“Thank you.”

“And thank you as well.”

He raises an eyebrow. “For?”

“Trying to save my village.”

The warmth is soon replaced by remorse as he stares at nothing in particular. “But I failed. I saw what they did to the women. Not even the children were spared from death.”

You take a shaky breath and rest a hand on his knee. “If not for your actions, I wouldn’t be here. I didn’t drag myself to the road, did I?”

“… No. You did not.” His gaze slowly returns to you. “That doesn’t change the fact that I only saved one of many.”

“You can’t save everyone. Maybe it’s time to start living for yourself.”

Leaving him to contemplate your words, you stand up and walk to his bag that remains hanging on the wall. He needs something to eat and so do you. As you search through it, the first drops of rain begin to fall, strengthening the earthy scent of the forest. There’s another noticeable scent, this one coming from the bag. It’s a bundle of raspberries, their red juice leaking through the cloth they’re enclosed in. There’s also a handful of almonds mixed with them. This isn’t nearly enough food for two grown men, but it’ll ease the hunger pangs somewhat. On your way back to the bed, you grab the waterskin. You sit with your legs folded under you and place it on your lap.

Hand extended, you offer him the first selection. He’s now sitting up with his back against the wall, showing strength in spite of his injury. He chooses the crushed berries and two almonds, leaving the rest for you. A stern look makes him reconsider and he takes a few more nuts. The meal is eaten in silence, finished almost as quickly as it was started. You crumple the stained cloth and toss it aside with the rest.

“Do you want any water?”

He nods shyly, his eyes darting to the waterskin on your lap. It was strategically placed of course. He waits for you to give it to him, but this offer doesn’t come. If he wants it, he’ll have to take it. Half of your mouth curls into a smile as he reaches out tentatively, finally securing the waterskin in his grasp.

“Drink it all.”

Your order is followed as he tips his head back, drinking every last drop. He turns the waterskin upside down to prove it.

“Good. I’ll get some rainwater for myself.”

His bag holds a ceramic cup, but you don’t bother to retrieve it. Although the rain is coming down heavily, it will take several hours just to collect an inch. You’ll use the classic method of standing outside with your mouth open. Before you can stand up, he stops you with a hand on your arm.

“When I was out, I visited your village. Check the saddlebags.”

The horse has remained outside, untethered, like a dutiful friend instead of a beast used to carry people around. She deserves better than to stand outside in the rain. You grab the soft blanket that covered you this morning and then approach her slowly, speaking in a soft voice.

“Come on. You don’t have to stay outside.”

She steps between the fallen branches, keeping her head turned to compensate for the blindness in one eye. Now her disability makes more sense. She must’ve received the injury while protecting Akio, given the life they have led thus far. They're two heroes who try to make the world a better place. Smiling gently, you lay the blanket on the floor. At least she can find some comfort tonight.

Her descent to the blanket is slow as she folds her front legs and then the back. You kneel down, unbuckle both sides of the saddle, and lift it off, relieving the burden from her. A surprise is waiting for you in one of the bags. It holds your waterskin from home, identifiable by your etched name, along with the rest of your medicinal supplies. Even your grooming supply box is here.

The other bag contains a few cloth bundles of vegetables, nuts, and seeds. There wasn’t enough room to fit your clothes, but that doesn’t matter. Those can be acquired in any village, whereas medicine is harder to come by.

“I salvaged what I could. Including...”

You remove a heavy sack of coins, plundered from the homes of dead villagers who no longer have a need for them. Your heart feels equally as heavy as you put them back.

“They almost raped me. The orcs.”

Near silence permeates the cave, save for the pattering of the rain and the soft huffing of the horse. Blinking back the tears, you grab the waterskin and take a sip, dryness preventing you from speaking further. Akio does it for you.

“Come here.”

Your hand trembles as you insert the cork and slide the waterskin into the bag. Weakness isn’t something you show often. Healers can’t afford to be weak, not when people count on them to be strong in the face of stress. But in this cave, there’s no such expectation. Here you can allow yourself the special type of comfort that can only be found in the arms of another. You rise and take the few steps to the bed, and he gives you a helping hand onto it.

Where has the day gone? The cave is soon cast in darkness, its last bit of light disappearing as he blows out the candle inside the lantern. Strong arms wrap around you, providing warmth amidst the cooling temperature, and you lay your head on his chest.

“I’ve battled many orcs. When bloodlust consumes them, they fight to the death. But this one wasn’t like the others. While the rest continued to fall, he slung your limp body over his shoulder and disappeared into the forest. At the time, I didn’t know the reason for his actions.”

“Was it the chieftain?”

“Yes. I tracked him and skewered his heart, or so I thought. He survived, blessed by the healing wards from his shaman, and he returned to your home in search of you. I was loading your belongings when I crossed paths with him. He fought with a fury I hadn’t seen in years, but try as he might, he couldn’t defeat me. He fell with the same heaviness as his tribemates. However, with his last ounce of strength, he sought to make me bleed out with him.”

“He missed your artery.”

“He did and I'm thankful for that. There are places that should only exist in dreams. Seas of endless sand, lakes of the clearest blue, lands of everlasting ice and snow, golden havens where the warmth never wanes...”

You try to keep your eyes open, but they’re too heavy. “I’d like to see them one day. And… and I wouldn’t mind if you were at my side.”

He doesn’t answer, but a hand moves to your hair, stroking it gently. The soothing motions lull you into sleep. With his comforting presence, he’ll keep the nightmares at bay. Tonight, there won’t be any dreams of what could’ve happened if he hadn’t shown up in your village. Only dreams of what could be if he lets you into his heart.

* * *

Morning arrives, spilling golden light into the cave, and you awaken to find emptiness on the other side of the bed. Your disappointment lasts for a mere second. There, in the middle of the cave’s entrance, stands a man clad in black armor from head to toe. Beside him is a horse with a new addition on her back: a double saddle that makes your heart soar. Everything has been secured to the saddle, including his extendable polearm and your medicinal bag.

You bolt to your feet and close the distance. With your tousled hair and wrinkled clothes, you don’t fit the image of a prince, but he treats you like one by dropping to a knee and grasping your hand.

When your village was invaded, the possibility of a bright future seemed to have been lost, but it’s been found once more. They called you a dreamer, and they couldn’t have been more right. But even the most far-fetched dream can come true. In the strong grip, you feel the unsaid words from a man who will protect you until he takes his last breath. In the warm eyes, you see the promise of a new life.

And that new life begins now.


End file.
